


could roses bloom (if our grave was watered by the rain)

by light_loves_the_dark



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Family, Avengers Feels, Avengers actually talk out their problems, F/M, Gen, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Feels, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Natasha Romanov, So much death, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, apparently bruce can cook, but the ending's hopeful, everyone has PTSD, i'm team ironman but this is pretty even-keeled i think, thor gives great hugs, you wish nat was here to fix your problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 22:32:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15567804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/light_loves_the_dark/pseuds/light_loves_the_dark
Summary: She spends the next hour with Tony at Pepper’s bedside, wiping blood from his skin, sewing up gaping wounds, and plying him with painkillers and water. When she is done, she leaves him to grieve in peace, but she sinks down just outside the door, finally crumbling. With her head in her hands, she remembers what she told Shuri, about rebuilding. Then she contemplates what it means to rebuild something that perhaps was never there in the first place.-Everyone is dead. Maybe this means the Avengers can finally talk.





	could roses bloom (if our grave was watered by the rain)

**Author's Note:**

> jesus, i've literally been writing this since iw came out. it's been a pain filled process.
> 
> so i didn't really deal with steve and tony bc that would require another 10,000 words, and i was more into looking at relationships that aren't too overdone in the mcu. so yeah. enjoy, i think? a lot of my pain went into this lol. 
> 
> title is from billie eilish.

Shuri and Okoye ask them to leave Wakanda by the end of the day. Natasha is not sure whether they are wise or foolish to enact an isolationist policy when the world is in flames, then decides it does not matter. It doesn’t matter because Steve looks to her for an answer, and so she steps forward and gives it.

_ (she thinks this is the first time steve has truly wavered from being a leader. not when the chitauri were raining down, not when hydra reappeared, not even when he was at war with tony. she hates herself for being relieved that her friend finally doubts. she wonders when he decided the safest hands were those of a russian ex-assassin who made all the wrong choices.) _

Her hands are dirty from scraping Wanda’s ashes from the ground. Shuri shakes her outstretched palm regardless.

The young princess promises to keep in contact, and Natasha knows she tells the truth. But first, she tells the girl, they need to rebuild.

When they get home from Wakanda, Natasha does not enter the compound. Instead, she sits outside the wide entranceway. Bruce spares her a curious glance, but leaves her behind. Steve does the same.

Moments later, Thor crashes down from the heavens. The raccoon creature had asked to be returned to his ship, cradling the ashes of the tree-like man. Natasha refuses to think about them; she has enough to worry about on her end.

Thor walks up to her with shoulders tense and hands hanging loose by his sides. “My people are hidden from me. I need to regroup. Would you give me shelter?”

He sounds strangely formal, but then again, Thor and she never did talk much.

“Of course,” she tells him, voice cracking. They are the first words she has spoken since leaving Wakanda.

His eyes soften, and he sits down next to her. She puts a hand over his. “Where is Loki?” She asks quietly, dreading and hoping for the same answer.

“He fell,” Thor whispers.

Natasha squeezes his hand. “If you can believe it, I am sorry.”

Thor looks at her then, eyes knowing, and she wonders when he became this taciturn, wise man. She wonders if it could have gone differently if she hadn’t written him off as just a good fighter. “I can believe it, Natasha. Just like I still believe the sun will shine on us again.”

He sounds like he’s quoting someone, most likely his brother she thinks, but Natasha does not call attention to it. He pats her hand one last time before standing and entering the house. She knows a room is ready for him. There is always a room ready for each and every one of them.

And she keeps waiting.

She is sitting there when Clint shows up a day later, a baby slung across his chest and two children clinging to his hands. She doesn’t have to look at him to know.

_ (no one dares ask about laura. just like no one talks about wanda or bucky or t’challa or vision. just like no one asks for whom natasha waits. they just know.) _

Rhodey brings them Pepper before returning to help fix the world. She marvels at how he can be so strong, but then, he doesn’t seem to ruin everything he touches the way they do.

_ (she remembers the look on tony’s face when he called her a double agent for the second time. there is no bite, no careless sarcasm, no detachment. only honesty and fragility, like broken glass only expecting to shatter further. she waits there to remember.) _

Tony should not have had to watch his back. She should’ve watched it for him.

So she waits.

 

-

 

She does not have to wait long.

Forty-nine hours after they return to upstate New York, a small, alien ship lands on the grass in front of her. Natasha barely has the strength to pull out a gun, but she does. She will protect what is left of their team.

_ (she has been waiting to die for so long that it feels more familiar than foreign. every muscle in her body aches.) _

She aims the gun.

A blue woman climbs out. She looks like she is half human, half machine, turning to give Natasha a look that is more amused than threatening.

“Relax,” the woman shouts. Her voice is deep and menacing, but her posture is loose and after years of assessing threats, Natasha knows she can let her gun fall to point at the ground.

“Who are you and why are you here?” Natasha asks, guarded. There is no need to threaten; her still exposed gun should do that for her.

“I merely wish to return something that belongs to you,” the woman says. Natasha doesn’t blink, readying herself for explosions or other aliens pouring from the ship. They have too many enemies to not be cautious.

An annoyed voice comes from the ship. “Knock it off, Blue. I’m sure her day has sucked too.”

Natasha barely has the presence of mind to sheath her gun before running forward, her first smile in a long time threatening to break forth. She turns her back on the woman and reaches in the cockpit of the foreign ship, getting her first look at Tony Stark since they stood together fifty or so meters away from this very spot, and she warned him to watch his back.

It takes her mere moments to see the dried blood on his clothes. “Is it yours?”

Tony refuses to meet her eyes, and she is a little hurt that he doesn’t even seem happy to see her alive. She expects it, but it still hurts. He puts an hand on his side as she reaches for him, not bothering to hide his wince. “Miss me, Romanoff?” He tries, but the joke falls flat. The memory of happier times, of the beginning of trust instead of the end, only pains them both.

Still, Natasha would’ve rolled her eyes if her heart hadn’t been beating so fast. “Yes,” she says, no change in her expression. His eyes widen at the surety in her response. She lets the worry and relief shine through and wonders if he’ll believe it. “Now, is it yours?”

He nods.

Natasha swears, what she had already expected confirmed, reaching into the craft to lift him out. The blue woman just watches until Natasha has him on the ground in front of her, crouching low to take a better look at the damage. He lets her, breathing heavily. Her worry increases.

“I’ll be back,” the woman says from behind her. “I need him to save my sister.” She retreats into her ship, powering it up without so much as a farewell. Natasha wants to ask about a possible ally, but she knows there will be time for that. The pressing concern is just how close Tony is to bleeding out.

“Thanks, Blue,” Tony quips, and Natasha says nothing, helping him stand.

It seems that is the most he’s decided to accept from her.

It hurts the first time he tries to shrug her off, but she expects it, reminding him quietly that he cannot walk by himself. The idea that he can’t bear to rely on her for even a minute hurts more than any bullet.

“Pepper?” He grunts, his face blank, but she sees the trepidation in his eyes.

“Alive,” she answers like she can’t get the words out fast enough. His shoulders drop, and he breathes, and she hates herself for the news she’s about to deliver. “Stark, she’s in a coma.”

“What?” She eyes his side, where his makeshift bandage is turning red. Still, she answers him; she knows he won’t move without answers.

“When… when  _ it _  happened, her driver disappeared.” She refuses to say ‘died’. It is easier to imagine them all as piles of dust than as thousands upon thousands of corpses. “She crashed.”

“Where is she?” He asks, beyond exhausted but still more panicked than she has ever seen him.

Natasha shifts her weight; she is almost completely supporting him, and it is taking its toll. “We’ve been watching over her. I can-”

His eyes narrow. “What makes you think I’d go  _ anywhere  _ with you, Miss Triple Agent?”

Natasha just stares at him. “Stark - Tony, you can’t walk.” She gestures to his legs, which are barely supporting his weight. He would crumple if not for her holding him up.

He deflates. It is the most un-Tony Stark-like thing she has ever seen, and it sends shivers up her spine. She doesn’t let it show. “Take me to her, then.”

She nods, wrapping his arm tighter around her shoulder. “I will if you let me dress your wounds.” She refuses to budge on that - she refuses to lose him now, now that by some miracle he has returned to them.

“ _ Dammit, _  Romanoff-” But he cuts himself off, instead giving her a defeated sigh. He motions for her to lead the way.

She spends the next two hours with him at Pepper’s bedside, wiping blood from his skin, sewing up gaping wounds, and plying him with painkillers and water. When she is done, she leaves him to grieve in peace, but she sinks down just outside the door, finally crumbling. With her head in her hands, she remembers what she told Shuri, about rebuilding. Then she contemplates what it means to rebuild something that perhaps was never there in the first place.

 

-

 

The compound is so silent that the only thing Bruce can hear is the faint sound of a baby crying from Clint’s room. The sound makes Bruce want to turn and find him, to do something,  _ anything _  other than just supplying sandwiches to a grave Natasha and a heartbroken Tony, both of whom he left in their hour of need. Sure, he hadn’t known the extent of Tony’s pain, but he had slept through a couple of therapy sessions. Tony had forgiven him though, just as he had forgiven Tony for egging him on about Ultron. Steve is MIA, probably trying to come up with a battle plan that they need but no one wants. Clint will not let anyone watch his children except Natasha, and both of them refuse to sleep.

_ (he cannot blame clint, not when he understands so deeply what it is like not to trust anyone. trust is something that builds up like a dam, only it matters perhaps too much the material from which it is created. their lives are overflowing with wave after wave of strife; the pressure has only mounted until the twigs keeping the bones of their relationships in place have all snapped, and everything has flooded. he suspects none of them took the time to build their dams out of steel, and in return, they are reaching out to each other in vain. in return, they are drowning.) _

So Bruce seeks out the one person with whom he thinks he might be able to find words. He finds Thor in an empty training room, settling next to him with a sigh. “So, when you are going to go look for your people?” He doesn’t try small talk; he knows the god well enough now that he senses Thor will see right through it.

Thor glances over at him. “That is unnecessary. I know where they are,” he says, his voice defeated.

Bruce lets out a deep exhale, twisting his hands in his lap. “You don’t sound too happy about it.”

Thor tenses. “What can I do? I have failed as a King, Banner. My brother is dead, Heimdall is dead, half my people are  _ dead _ .”

This isn’t going the way Bruce imagined. “They still need you-”

“As we needed the Hulk! I did not see him fighting for the good of the universe before Thanos turned over the world to hell.” Bruce shrinks in on himself. “How can I trust your counsel if you yourself do not follow it?”

Bruce drops the thread of conversation as if it is fire. “And Jane Foster?” He blurts out. “How’s she?”

Thor’s shoulders drop at her name, but it is slight. “Jane is well. Alive, I mean. She has a safe haven in New Mexico.”

Bruce pauses. “You should go to her.” Jane has always seemed to ground Thor; despite their breakup, he knows they are still close.

Thor snorts. “The way you approach Lady Natasha?”

Now, Bruce sees red. “Okay, yeah, I’m wary around Nat, but I’m trying! I bring her food, I support her choices - if she feels like it’s more important to fix things with Tony than me, then that’s what she needs to do.”

Thor holds up his hands. “Very well, Banner, I did not mean to imply… well, I know she cares for you. That much can be said.”

Bruce tries one more time. “Go to Jane, Thor. Maybe she can give you the advice I can’t.”

Thor pauses, but then he shakes his head, bowing slightly to Bruce before exiting the room.

Bruce sighs. Zero for five.

 

-

 

Tony doesn’t leave for hours. She knows because she doesn’t leave the hallway. Bruce brings them sandwiches at hour five; she accepts hers gratefully, watching Bruce knock and be allowed entrance to Pepper’s room. She hears quiet voices conversing for a few moments, and then Bruce exits as well.

“Keeping Steve away?” He asks. His tone is conversational, but his eyes are hard and his mouth, set in a firm line.

She nods. “Good,” he continues, his voice deepening. “Let me know if you need a bathroom break.”

Days pass. Tony sleeps by Pepper’s bedside, and Natasha sleeps on a mattress that Bruce dragged into the hallway for her. Sometimes Clint brings his kids for her to watch while he goes to the gym. Natasha does Tai Chi in the hallway.

Steve doesn’t come by, until he does.

“Nat,” he greets.

“Rogers,” she replies, and he flinches.

“You made the same moves I did,” he reminds her. “Why now?”

“Because I thought you felt what I felt,” she says, low and quiet, unable to raise her voice without yelling. “I thought you felt guilty.”

“I do,” Steve says, “but we have to solve this. We can solve this if Tony helps us…”

“And then what?” She yells, and she doesn’t care. “We take his resources, his strength, his friendship, his  _ trust _ , and we throw it in his face again?” Steve opens his mouth to speak, and Natasha feels like slapping a hand over his mouth; instead, she just speaks faster. “I’m not saying he was right. I’m not saying we weren’t! This isn’t about the damn Accords. It’s not even about Thanos. We should’ve never left him to defend the earth alone. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I regret that we couldn’t help, but my hands were tied.”

“No, Steve, you made a choice. I made one too; I did what I thought was best for the team.” She refuses to look away, even when he averts his eyes. “Now I’m making another one.”

“Nat-”

“Leave,” she demands, finally standing. Steve takes a step back, but does not leave. She takes an angry step forward.

Steve sighs, holding his palms out to stop her approach. “Okay okay, I’ll leave.” He shakes his head. “I just want to do the right thing for the world. For the people we lost.”

Natasha winces inwardly at the thought of Bucky and Wanda and all the others, but she does not hesitate. “Then be patient. And don’t expect anything.”

Steve gives her a sad smile. “Is that what you’re doing?”

“No,” she whispers. “No, I can’t get rid of that hope.”

Steve leaves then, but something makes him pause once he reaches the elevator. He hears a door open, a hushed conversation, the creak of a chair, and a door close. To Steve, it doesn’t sound like forgiveness, but it does sound like hope.

 

-

 

Clint pauses outside the kitchen on his way to the hospital wing. For all he doesn’t want to leave his children alone for even a moment, he needs to go to the gym. He needs sleep; the baby has woken up crying every night. He can only provide formula and a muscled chest to sleep on, but all the baby wants is his mother.

It’s all Clint wants too.

Steve is in the kitchen. He remembers when he used to catch Steve humming as he cooked, but it is silent now. He is just making a sandwich. Or maybe a few sandwiches, judging from the pile on the counter.

“I want a sandwich, daddy!”

Steve looks up, eyes widening at the sight of the children that Clint has kept hidden from everyone except Natasha.

“Later, kid,” Clint responds, ushering the kids away.

“Wait,” Steve calls. “Take a few of mine,” he tries, offering him a plate of sandwiches.

Clint gives him a small smile. “Thanks, Cap,” he says, taking it from him. He gives a sandwich to the two other children; they grab for it eagerly. “Say thanks, guys.”

“Thanks Cap!” They chorus, munching away. Steve gives them both a soft smile; he is never around kids anymore, and if he is honest, he misses it. He used to watch the neighborhood kids all the time, protecting them the best he could. He wonders if, skinny and scrawny as he was, he was perhaps better at that than protecting the world now.

He thinks back to how he conceded to Natasha when leaving Wakanda. It had not been the move of a leader, nor a coward, he knows. It had been the move of a man who failed.

When he comes back to himself, Clint is herding the children into the hallway. “Okay kiddos, we’re gonna go see Auntie Nat.”

“But she just sits there!” It is clear the children are restless. And really, Steve thinks, how could they not be? But Clint is determined to keep them shielded from the outside world, and it is not Steve’s place to suggest otherwise.

“It’s boring!” The other child complains.

“It’s happening,” Clint retorts, and the children go quiet.

Steve speaks before he can think better of it. “Uh, Barton, I could watch them? If Romanoff is busy.”

Clint looks surprised, but then his eyes narrow. Apparently accepting food is where he draws the line. “Thanks Steve, but we’re good.”

_ (i don’t trust you alone with my children, he doesn’t say, but steve hears it.) _

“Maybe another time,” Steve offers. Clint smiles, but his eyes stay wary. He does look apologetic, and Steve understands the deeper need to protect one’s family in the face of such tragedy. That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t feel something sharp in his chest at his friend’s words.

“It’s not personal, Cap,” he says, and Steve knows deep down that it isn’t. He knows Clint still agrees with him about the Accords, even if he left them to sign them so he would be able to return to his wife and children. House arrest is a small price to pay for family - Steve wonders, if he still had family left, if he would have been able to say no. It is obvious that Clint trusts no one except Natasha, not anymore. And though it’s not personal, somehow, still, Steve feels like he is at fault.

The sense of failure deepens.

 

-

 

Bruce finds himself more often than not in the acres of land than Tony owns behind the compound. In the shade of a crop of trees, Steve had buried a small vase of the ashes of their teammates. Everyone makes their way out to the trees at least once a week. Thor lights candles; an Asgardian practice to honor fallen warriors. Clint lingers by an etching of Wanda’s name, speaking quietly with the stone. Natasha practices Tai Chi there in the mornings, and though Bruce knows she would never admit it, he sees the remains of the tears that must have streaked down her cheeks when she returns to the main building. Tony only stands by the stones, shoulders hunched, and Bruce sometimes thinks he, a shameless atheist, might be praying. Steve goes more than anyone else, and he does not hide his tears.

And Bruce hadn’t really known any of them.

Wanda had been an enemy for him longer than she had been an ally. The Winter Soldier and Peter Parker, both of whom he had never met. Sam Wilson, to whom he had almost never said a word. He supposes he knew Vision as JARVIS, but judging from the heartbreaking scene in the jungles of Wakanda, the AI had been more human than Bruce could have ever imagined.

_ (still, he sees their ghosts in the compound, in the training rooms. wanda’s spices still clutter half of the cabinets in the main kitchen. sam’s backup wings are neatly folded in the corner of the armory. peter’s math homework is on the dining room table, textbook open to page ninety-three. he had been learning trigonometry, and his half finished worksheet shows his intelligence. no one dares move it. whether it is for hope that he might return or for fear of tony’s reaction he is not sure.) _

“We have no tombs like this on Asgard.”

Bruce looks up to see Thor settling down on the ground next to him. “What do you have then?”

Thor looks wistful. Bruce remembers seeing Asgard explode in the distance, and wonders how he could have possibly forgotten that it had been Thor’s home for a millennia.“The common folk burn the bodies of their loved ones on a pyre, and scatter their remains on the sea. The soldiers and the royal family are sent off by barge, over the grand waterfall to Valhalla. It is honorable.” He looks at the names set in stone, reaching out to trace the  _ W  _ in Wilson with his thumb. “This… this feels shameful.”

Bruce shrugs. “Maybe we should be ashamed.”

Thor shakes his head. “No, this is a Midgard practice. And maybe it is not shameful - perhaps it is only…  temporary.” The word comes out more quietly than Bruce has ever heard Thor speak. It is a terrifying thought, a forbidden hope, that they might be able to change the outcome of this tragedy.

It is not a thought to be entertained at the moment, not when they are still so weak and fractured.

Thor sighs. “I was rude to you a fortnight ago, Banner, and I am sorry for it.”

Bruce sighs. “It’s okay, Thor. You have a lot on your mind.”

“Not enough to take it out on a friend.”

Bruce almost nods, almost just accepts the distinction, but it’s what he did with Steve and Clint and everyone and he refuses to let it go unacknowledged. “You consider me a friend?” He asks, voice low and soft.

“I do,” Thor replies, laying a heavy hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “And more, you are my shield-brother. I should heed your advice, even if in the end, I choose not to follow it.”

Bruce nods again, feeling a bit like a puppet on strings, but he cannot find the strength to do anything else. After all that Thor has lost in the past few months, he still finds time to comfort Bruce. He finds time for his friends.

Thor needs to go to his people. He needs to understand his worth. And if he still won’t listen to Bruce, well-

It is enough to convince Bruce of what he needs to do.

 

-

 

“Stark? If you spend one more second in that lab, you might waste away.”

Tony rolls out from under his Lamborghini to see Natasha leaning in the doorway. His hand is still deep in the car, but he still manages to give her an unimpressed look. It’s definitely not her business that he’s not sleeping.

“Oh, and I suppose you’ve found something better to do with your endless days?” He asks, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

She doesn’t bend. “Do you even know what time it is?” She wonders, an innocent ring to her tone that definitely doesn’t belong in the voice of the Black Widow.

He turns, scoffing. “Yeah, it’s…” Then, he sighs. “FRIDAY, what’s the time?”

“2am, Sir,” the AI replies.

Natasha walks into the room cautiously, aware that she was not invited. He doesn’t stop her. “Tony, you should get some sleep.”

“You do not get to order me around,” he says, waving a finger in her face.

“Colonel Rhodes called me; he thinks you should-”

“Yeah, he has slightly more right to order me around, but it’s not sticking,” he interupts.

“Tony-”

Tony drops the wrench he’s holding. It clatters onto the floor, and it is the loudest sound he has heard since the roaring in his hears when Peter faded to dust in front of him…

“I can’t, okay?” He knows his tone is at a normal volume, but it feels like he is shouting. “I can’t sleep.”

Natasha’s eyes soften, and in that moment Tony thinks she can see through to the very core of him. He is broken, still bleeding, and if there were ever a time for her to abuse his weakness, it would be now.

_ (she doesn’t, though, and somehow that means more than the empty words, the endless hours she had spent outside pepper’s room. for the black widow to set aside the spy - well, in his bitter moments, he has wondered if that is all she is. in moments like these, he feels something like shame wash over him. of course she isn’t. she is more than her past. her mistakes.) _

Sometimes, he thinks of her, and ends up thinking of himself.

“You look like your need to punch something,” she points out.

He laughs, sharp and broken. “You have no idea.”

She walks over, holding out her hand. “Then come spar with me.” She sounds confident, but he hears the question underneath.

He looks at her suspiciously from the rolling bench, before making his way back under the car. She doesn’t retract her hand, waiting.  “I don’t know if I want those thighs anywhere near me.”

She laughs. “I wouldn’t hurt you.” It is the wrong thing to say, and she knows it, covering her tracks immediately. “You used to spar with Happy all the time - how much hand-to-hand training have you been doing recently?”

His voice echoes from underneath the car. “That’s what the suit’s for!”

“And what if you don’t have the suit?” He rolls back out, looking up at her. There is something uncertain in his eyes; she knows he is already in a vulnerable position, and she wonders what it will take for him to let himself be a little more uncomfortable. “And just think of how cathartic it will be to punch me,” she adds, sensing that he is close to caving in.

He can’t help but smile a little, reaching up to take her hand. She pulls him up, getting grease all over her palms. “Good hook,” he jokes, and she relaxes a little. “Okay, let’s do it.”

They spar for a little over an hour; she is careful to both take it easy on him and not, knowing either extreme might be upsetting. She has so many tips and tricks that she had always meant to show him after watching him and Happy, but she had never gotten around to it.

Finally, Tony calls a halt; though he is in good shape, Natasha’s job mandates that she has to be in peak condition in every moment. She hands him a bottle of water before sitting down on the bench, mirroring his pose. Waiting.

“You know what I realized earlier?” Natasha says nothing, waiting for him to continue. “We,” he begins, motioning between them, “we started this.” A bit of water sloshes onto the floor at his movements, but neither of them pay it any attention.

She is surprised; this is the first genuinely thoughtful comment he’s given her since she fired at T’challa instead of Steve, and she wants it to continue. She thinks about his statement for a minute, then responds: “No, it was you, Tony, in that cave. I had nothing to do with it.”

He shakes his head, quirking a smile in her direction. There is something bitter in it, but they are both so tired and sad that bitterness is expected. “You’re wrong; it started, you and me, in that ring in Malibu. You saved me, betrayed me, saved me again to make me warm up to you again, betrayed me again, and the cycle just keeps repeating, only with more superheroes and higher stakes. And this time, I thought I actually had friends.”

Natasha doesn’t want to touch those observations with a 10-foot pole. In fact, she physically shifts away, taking a gulp out of her water bottle. “I remember you told me I had a quiet reserve,” she points out, smirking.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “I remember you thought I wasn’t enough of a hero to join this team,” he retorts, not dropping the subject. He isn’t ready to let it go, and she can’t really blame him.

Natasha doesn’t look over at him; she just stares straight forward, leaning her elbow on her knees. It is a resigned posture, one that she does knowingly, artificially, but he says nothing. Her words will be genuine enough, and he can’t be picky. “I worried about your ability to follow orders - and I still don’t think I was wrong. I never said you weren’t a hero.”

“That’s how Fury made it sound.”

“Fury has - had - his own agenda,” she reminds him. “SHIELD is a spy network; he knew how to manipulate you better than I did.”

She is worried at first that the statement might bother him, before remembering how suspicious he had been on the Helicarrier all those years before. Instead, he just shrugs, and for a moment she is reminded of the Tony Stark that flipped off the government, before mistakes and decisions weighed him down to the uncertain man who sits next to her. He is still sarcastic and strong, but more taciturn and hesitant. Maybe a few years ago, she would have seen that as a positive thing. Now, when they all need inspiration and hope, it just feels wrong.

He is quiet for a moment, then: “if we started this, maybe it’s up to us to finish it.”

Natasha reaches over, pressing her hand over his. He thinks he should feel an aversion towards her touch, but it is small enough to actually be a comfort. No one has touched him in comfort for weeks. The last person to seek him for comfort was -  _ no. stop. don’t think about -  _ “It’s time to call it off,” he continues, trying to clear his mind of memories.

“A couple days ago, I thought that too,” she says, resolve strengthening. If Tony and Steve cannot motivate them, then she will have to bite the bullet and remind them what it looks like. “But lately, I’ve been exploring a more terrifying option.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“Rebuilding.”

He stands, letting her hand fall from his. He is shaking a little, as if the word itself terrifies him as much as the concept does her. “You’re being uncharacteristically optimistic, Widow. You and me? Maybe. After lots and lots of therapy.”

_ (although it is heartening to hear him even mention the possibility of forgiveness, she still feels a stab of pain. ‘the team?’ he doesn’t say. ‘never.’ but he doesn’t have to. she hears it anyway.) _

She watches him walk out, and though she knows they have made progress it still feels so small. Useless.

Minutes later, Steve walks into the gym, grim and ready to punch things. She stands so she can leave him in peace. She nods to him as he passes, indecision on his face. It is simple to see he is struggling to speak.

“Nat?” She raises an eyebrow. “Are we okay?”

All of the tension and indignation melts away. Steve is an incredible man, and one she regards as a best friend. It isn’t fair of her to be angry with him when it is something he is trying to fix. When it is something that she did too. “You’re one of my closest friends, Steve,” she replies, folding her arms over her chest.  “I’m sorry I was so harsh.”

Steve nods, accepting her apology. “And I’m sorry too. Just because I’m trying to work out a plan… it doesn’t mean I don’t feel just as guilty. Tony trusted the wrong person to supervise the Avengers, and I still don’t think we need supervision like that - but you’re right. I didn’t handle it well. Tony is my friend - even if he doesn’t feel the same anymore. I’ll be patient, and I’ll make my amends when it’s time.”

Natasha reaches forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He holds her tightly in return, and something in both of them lightens.

 

-

 

Clint guides his children down to the gym, watching Cooper’s arms with eagle eyes as they squeeze around his youngest child. Cooper had begged to hold Nathaniel, and though the boy is certainly old enough to be trusted with such a simple task, Clint feels his luck has been so bad recently that Nathaniel falling on his head would just be par for course. And then Laura would come back from the dead just to murder him.

Clint loves his children more than anything, so he would never wish for that to happen. But in his lonely bed, small bodies clutching him from both sides, he misses his wife so much it is like a physical wound. He remembers those beautiful days, coming home for the weekend to a family. Almost no assassin at his level had such a gift; it was only a matter of time before he lost it.

And now he has to be a dad. All the time. A single dad.

And he used to think that flying cities and aliens were inconceivable.  

“Dad, where are we going?” Lila asks, tugging on his hand. His children had always been very tactile, but now they cling to him like he could disappear at any moment. And it’s not an empty fear.

“The gym,” he replies to a chorus of groans. “Sorry guys, dad’s got to train.”

“For what?” Lila asks.

He sighs. “Not sure yet, to be honest.”  _ Maybe the end of the world again.  _ He settles them in the corner. “You brought your coloring books?” They hold them up. “I’ll be over by the targets, okay? Holler if you need anything.”

He is able to shoot in peace for about thirty minutes before he hears a noise, like a door sliding open. He turns; Lila and Cooper are coloring moodily. The baby…

Oh god. The baby.

 

Nathaniel Barton is crawling out the door. His leg disappears around the corner, and he is out of view. Clint drops his bow, sprinting over. Before he can get there, however, Steve comes around the corner, Nathaniel safely tucked in his arms.

 

“Lost something?” He jokes, handing over the baby as soon as Clint comes to a stop in front of him. Clint’s wide eyes and shaking hands make the smile melt off Steve’s face. “Whoa, Barton, he’s okay. Totally fine.”

 

“He could’ve easily  _ not _  been,” Clint snaps. “It’s not like Stark made this compound childproof.”

 

Steve scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m sure Tony wasn’t thinking about babies when he designed this place.”

 

Clint exhales, rocking Nathaniel back and forth. The baby closes his eyes, curling against his father. “Okay, I get it. That wasn’t fair.” He pauses, watching his son with a soft expression. “Look, you know I’m not Stark’s biggest fan, but he’s a good guy for letting us back here. It’s the safest place in the world for them, and I’m grateful.” He snorts. “Not as grateful as Nat, apparently, but we’ve always seen different endgames.”

 

Steve just nods, wondering if Clint has been talking to anyone but his kids and himself in the past few weeks. He’s never heard the man ramble like that before now.

 

“How much training did you get in?” He asks instead.

 

Clint shrugs. “Just half an hour. But the kids are getting restless.”

 

Steve makes the offer before he can think better of it. “Listen, you need more time down here,” he says, thinking of the battles to come. “Let me watch them.” Clint opens his mouth to protest, but Steve beats him to it. “I’ll watch them here, over in that corner. You’ll be in the same room; they’ll be okay, I promise.”

Clint nods sheepishly, realizing that to expect more is a little unreasonable. Steve doesn’t seem to see it that way, though, and looks surprised at his response.

“Lila, Cooper, Cap’s going to play with you guys, okay?”

They both think about it for a second. “Do you know how to draw a cat?” Lila asks.

Steve laughs. “Sure, Lila. What kind of cat? You know, I had an orange one when I was a kid.”

Lila’s eyes go wide. “What was his name?”

And just like that, he’s accepted into their fold, drawing picture after picture of cats. Cooper isn’t old enough yet to act like playing with his little sister is beneath him, so he watches eagerly over Cap’s shoulder, asking for a cat with Ironman armor. Then a dog with Ironman armor. They name him IronDog, and Steve spends fifteen minutes detailing the exploits of Tony Bark. His voice is full of respect and humor as he converts Tony into a PG version of himself, and the children listen, entranced.

Clint watches from the corner of his eye as they take a break to play a game of tag, Steve chasing them around with the baby in his arms, arms cradling him carefully. Several hours pass before Clint’s shoulder twinges and he calls it quits.

Steve hands over the baby, grinning. “They’re good kids,” he tells Clint, ruffling Lila’s hair. “You should be proud.”

Clint smiles, kissing the top of Cooper’s head. “I am,” he says, as Cooper pretends to gag.

“If you ever need a babysitter, I can watch them wherever...” Steve trails off.

Clint’s smiles gets a little tighter. “I’ll let you know.” Steve nods, heading for the door. “Hey Cap?” He calls after him. “Just… give me a little time, hey?”

It feels more awkward than Clint had imagined, voicing his hesitance and doubt to a man that had only really ever been his teammate, not his friend. But it is worth it to see Steve’s relief as he nods with a smile now, before jogging out of the room.

Clint notices Bruce lean into the doorway a few minutes later, but says nothing. Sure enough, Bruce walks in, grinning at Lila who hides behind Clint. “It’s Auntie Nat’s  _ boyfriend _ ,” she whispers to him, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Bruce blushes.

“That’s a better title than most I’ve heard,” he jokes. “C’mon, time for dinner, right? I made lasagna.”

Clint looks amused, urging the kids ahead of him. They run down the hall but stay in sight, checking to make sure their father is following.

“He’s a good guy, you know. Steve,” Bruce says conversationally. He stuffs his hands in his pockets.

Clint raises an eyebrow; Bruce’s nervousness is a clear sign that he’s about to say something that Clint won’t like. “That’s never been in doubt,” he replies. “And here I thought you were on Tony’s side,” he adds. Sometimes he wonders what side Bruce would have chose. Sometimes he also wonders if there would have ever been a civil war with Bruce and Thor around. In his less bitter moments, he thinks that perhaps the avengers were never meant to be parted.

Bruce rolls his eyes at the jab. “Clint - don’t you get it? There are no sides. Not anymore,” he exhales. “We’re all that’s left.”

Clint turns to look at him in one sharp movement. “There is not a day that goes by I don’t remember that.” The words are bitter. He spits them out like poison.

Bruce spreads his hands wide as they enter the kitchen. “Look - I wasn’t around for this… this civil war. And I’m sure it felt like life or death at the moment. But you need to pull yourself together-  _ this  _ is what life or death really is. We’ve living it. Maybe Tony and Steve don’t have the ability to put aside their differences right now, but I know  _ you do _ .”

“Look, Bruce-”

Bruce interrupts him. “Do it for your kids, Clint. They need you. We need you. Everyone lost someone - that’s not an excuse you can use forever.”

“They’re my kids,  _ Bruce _ . I can’t… I can’t just let them out of my sight. What if something happened to them?” he whispers, watching Cooper cut Lila a slice of lasagna. They laugh over the gooey cheese, drawing it out in long strings before it sags and drops onto the plate.  _ My last reason for clinging onto this Earth would be gone. _

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” Bruce replies, “but we have to be here for each other. We’re all that’s left,” he repeats, like a broken record. He leaves them to their lasagna.

He leaves Clint to think.

 

-

 

_ “Are you ready?” _

_ “As ready as I’ll ever be.” _

Bruce makes the call, smiling in greeting when a face appears on the screen.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Dr. Banner,” the woman gushes, not wasting any time on small talk. “Your work on gamma radiation is unparalleled.”

Bruce cannot help the bark of laughter. “You know, Tony said the exact same thing when he met me.”

“Really?”

“Yes - and then, of course, he made a quip about the other guy."   


She blushes. “Well - I wouldn’t…”

“No no, you didn’t seem the type, Dr. Foster.”

Jane Foster smiles, but he is an expert at seeing the pain underneath a happy expression. It is clear she is worried; it must have been at least one or two years since she last laid eyes on her former boyfriend. “Please, what you’re doing for Thor - call me Jane.”

“It’s Bruce, then,” he replies. “Thor is one of the best men I know.”

They had been planning this for about a week. First, Jane took some convincing that Thor would even want to speak with her, and then it was about scheduling - Jane’s time is in high demand, with independent groups searching for a solution to Thanos’ actions.

“FRIDAY,” Bruce asks, “would you call Thor to the media room, please?”

“Of course, Dr. Banner.”

He watches Jane wring her hands on the video screen. She is unapologetic about showing her nerves, and he finds it refreshing after spending all his time with super-soldiers and gods and spies with so much PTSD they’d probably need an army of therapists to open up.

“Do you think he’ll be happy to see me, Bruce?” She asks.

He shrugs. “Honestly? I can’t think about his feelings. This is about what he needs.”

Jane smiles. “I feel like a broken record, but Dr. Banner - it truly is an honor.” She doesn’t sound like an eager scientist anymore, but a earnest, intelligent woman, and Bruce can see how Thor fell in love.

“Banner, you called?” A pause, and Bruce is afraid to turn around. “Jane?” Thor whispers, like a prayer.

Jane’s smile is watery, but it is luminescent. “Thor,” she replies softly.

“How?” He breaks his gaze with Jane, turning to stare at Bruce. “What is-”

Bruce shrugs, watching Thor with tentative hope. “I’m sorry if I crossed a line, Thor, but I don’t regret this. You need someone.”

Although his eyes dart to Jane, as if to ensure she is still present every few seconds, he makes his way over to Bruce.

“Thank you, brother,” he says, strong and sincere, before wrapping Bruce up in what might be the best hug of his life. He doesn’t know much about Asgardian endearments, but this feels weighty somehow, like Thor is entrusting Bruce with something a human has no right to bear.

Bruce reaches back around his, patting his back awkwardly. “There’s no need.” They separate, and Bruce looks over at the monitor. Jane is crying, waiting patiently, but he still senses her anticipation. “I’ll… leave you to it, then.”

_ (bruce bows out quickly, a true smile on his face. he doesn’t even flinch when thor arrives at his rooms a few hours later, armor in place, requesting that he tell the others that he now ventures to seek his people. he tells bruce that he asked tony if he had the space to house jane and darcy, who are not safe where they are. tony, of course, grants this, and bruce watches thor propel himself into space with a lighter heart than he could have ever hoped for.) _

 

-

 

Natasha trains Tony nearly every day now. There’s not much else to do; he works in the lab but only in the middle of the night, when he’s too tired to think about the armor and the gadgets he’d usually be updating. And on those nights either Bruce or Natasha stays with him for a while, Bruce working quietly and Nat reading one of his books on mechanics. They rarely overlap, which means that they must’ve developed a schedule. He knows it should upset him, to never be alone for more than a few hours, but he’s grown used to it.

So used to it, in fact, that when he looks down at the clock and it says 5am, and he had retreated to the lab at 10pm, he knows something’s wrong.

“FRIDAY, where’s Bruce?”

“In the biotechnology lab, Sir. Should I call him for you?”

“No, no - does he seem… okay?”

The AI pauses. “His heart rate is normal, Sir, and his coloring is okay.”  _ Okay, so not green. _  “Sir, I believe you should ask me about Miss Romanoff.”

Tony’s head snaps up. It never occurred to him that Natasha might be the problem. “FRIDAY, update on Black Widow.”

“She is in her rooms, Sir. Her heart rate is 225 beats per minute.”

Tony stands, making for the door. “What the fuck? For how long? Is she working out?”

“For twenty minutes and thirty-three seconds. And no, Sir.”

“ _ Shit. _ ”

He nearly crashes into the elevator. “Wake the compound.”

“Done, Sir.” Alarms sound in the background, but he is tunnel-visioned.

He arrives at Natasha’s rooms, entering his override code; his fingers slip with sweat, and at the moment he really wishes that despite his trauma he’d updated his armor - he feels naked without any protection. When he enters the room, everything seems in order - no hostiles, no broken doors, but he stays vigilant. There is an half-drunk cup of tea on the table and a book on the counter, place marked.

The main room is dark, so he runs into her bedroom, wincing at the breach of privacy. The sheets are a mess; funny, he would’ve pegged her as a bedmaker. The bedroom is dark too, but there is a light on in the bathroom, so he rushes toward the open door.

He finds her in the shower, hudding in the center. She is not crying, of course, but her eyes are unseeing and her mouth is forming words he can’t hear. The showerhead is on, and the water is so cold that it bites his skin, but he thinks nothing of it, climbing in with her. She is wearing only a t-shirt and cloth shorts, shaking so violently he can’t help but be afraid.

_ Panic attack.  _ He realizes with a cold certainty that she must go through them too.

“FRIDAY, tell the others to stand down, but keep Dr. Banner on standby,” he orders, toeing off his shoes. He kicks them out of the shower.

“Sir, they are asking why.”

He sighs. “Tell them it was a false alarm. And FRIDAY? Turn off the water.”

He grabs a towel from the ledge, kneeling next to her, one hand resting on her calf. The other wraps the towel around her shoulders, and she leans in, seeking the warmth, aware that despite her ears ringing he is speaking to her-

“- to me, listen to my voice, Nat. It’s okay, you’re safe, it’s going to-”

She keeps shaking. He waits, checking in periodically with FRIDAY until her heart rate is below 150.

“Natasha?”

She shivers, but at least it is not the violent shaking from earlier. “I’m fine, Stark. Thanks. I can take it from here.”

“What the hell was that?”

She stares at him for a moment before standing, walking into the closet and returning with dry sweatpants and a new t-shirt on. She tosses him a hoodie, and he puts it on, realizing it’s one of his.

She shrugs at his expression. “Your sweatshirts are comfier than mine.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

She sits on the bed, crossing her arms, her eyes focusing on some point beyond him. “You’re not the only one with nightmares, Tony.”

He exhales. He cannot even imagine what Natasha Romanoff’s nightmares look like. “Nat…”

“I’m tired - I want to get some sleep.”

“Okay.” He stands. “I’ll-”

She interrupts him. “Coffee in a few hours? I’ll see you in the lab.” She smiles, but it is pained and her face is pale. But he can only nod, retreating to the door and fending off Bruce’s worried calls.

_ (he tries to keep working when he gets back, but it is useless. instead, he thinks about natasha, her upbringing and her scars and her resolve. he thinks about the person she was when he met her, and the person she has become. he thinks about her weapons, and how little they truly protect a body as mortal as his own. then, he tries with no success to imagine the size and scale of the monsters that haunt one of the strongest woman he has ever known.) _

“FRIDAY? Pull up the specs for the last suit I made for Black Widow.” He pauses, considering.  _ What the hell. _  “And the ones for my nano-tech armor.”

It is the first time he has worked on armor in weeks. And somehow, it is fitting that it isn’t even his own.

 

-

 

Steve is not sure when Clint decided that his supervision of the kids could be over FRIDAY and not with his own eyes, but he is happy to have the freedom. He watches the kids almost four times a week now for several hours, allowing Clint to sleep and train. He looks healthier and less fatigued each time he returns, but the aura of sadness still clings to him, as it does to them all. It will be a long time before they can shed it.

It is a Thursday. Clint is down in the training rooms with Natasha, and Bruce and Tony are down in the lab. Steve is playing with the children in Clint’s living space. They are coloring, Nathaniel sleeping peacefully in his cot, when the question is finally asked.

“Cap?”

Steve doesn’t have the heart to correct the boy. “Yes, Cooper?”

“Do you know where momma is?” Steve freezes, his brush dripping paint onto the floor. “She disappeared, and daddy won’t talk about it.”

Steve melts. “Y’know, kid? That’s something you’re going to have to ask your father.” It’s difficult for him to get the words out, to put something else on Clint’s shoulders, but it’s not his place to have this conversation.

Cooper deflates. “Okay.”

The boy looks up at him so sadly that Steve has to wrap an arm around him. “But you know what? I know, wherever she is, she will always love you.” By this time, Lila has walked over too, wrapping her arms around his bicep.

“Me too?” She asks, her voice soft and uncertain. She clutches his arm tighter to her chest.

Steve cannot help it; he gathers the two children to him, warming when they bury their heads in his neck. “Of course, Lila. Your momma loves you both.”

He isn’t sure how long they remain like that, but eventually the baby starts murmuring and Lila has fallen asleep on his chest. Cooper yawns, muttering the word bed before climbing off Steve and moving into the bedroom. Steve swings Lila up in his arms gently, depositing her in her own bed before moving back to the main room to change the baby.

Only someone has beaten him to it.

Clint looks up at him, and Steve is surprised, not by the dark shadows under his eyes but the faint smile curling across his face. He cradles Nathan close to his chest, and the baby reaches for his thumb, wide eyed. When his eyes catch on Steve, Nathan gurgles happily. Steve can’t help but smile back at him.

“I heard what you said to Cooper and Lila,” Clint begins. Before Steve can say a word, he holds up a palm to stop him. “Thank you. I know I need to explain everything to them, but… thank you for what you said.”

The room is dark and Clint is smiling, and really, there is no excuse to hold back the words that have been ringing around in his head for weeks.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, “if any of my actions caused you and your family pain. If it helps, I regret many of them - not helping Bucky, but going about it the way I did. Lord knows, Tony and I should have found a better way. And I… I was selfish. For so many years, it was just me and Bucky against the world. I couldn’t stand to see him locked up like that, and I rushed into things.” It feels good to finally say what’s been on his mind for over a year, and he looks up at Clint, waiting for a reaction.

Clint just stares at him - maybe in shock, but there is something else in his eyes. Steve thinks it might be respect. “No.” Clint refuses his apology. “I made the choice to help you out of my own free will. And I still believe that the Accords, at least the way they were, would have prevented us from doing what we needed to do. I shouldn’t blame you for the fallout.”

Steve shrugs. “Regardless, I am sorry. If there’s anything I can do-”

Clint cuts him off, rocking Nathan once before handing him over to Steve. The baby curls into his body, seeking familiar warmth. Clint gestures to them. “Look - I can’t bring Laura back.” It looks like it physically pains him to say the name, and yet he soldiers forward. “But I can give them the protection and friendship of all of you, not just Tasha.”

Steve blinks. “I would be honored.” The words come out in a rush, but there is no doubt he means them.

Clint moves to take the baby back, and he lets him, nodding to him before making for the door. But Clint isn’t done. “And Steve?”

He turns around. “Yes?”

Clint takes a deep breath, then he smiles. “Out of the all the people left in the world,” he begins, making his way to stand in front of him, “I sure as hell trust you with my kids.”

He shifts the baby to his left arm and holds out a hand; Steve grasps it like a lifeline. “That means the world to me.” He pauses, thinking for a moment about lost trust. “Now, if I could just figure out things with Tony.”

Clint grins. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that. Listen, trust me on this one: Tasha’s not going to let you near him, not until you’re both ready. So just stay polite and keep your distance.”

Steve nods. “Okay,” he replies, and Clint visibly relaxes.

“Good man,” he claps him on the shoulder. “Now, since you’re Cooper and Lila’s new favorite uncle, you’re making pancakes tomorrow.” He pauses. “I’ll talk to Tasha. We’ll figure something out.”

_ (steve barely hears his promise. the word ‘uncle’ clamors for attention in his mind. he remembers the emptiness he felt after the chitauri, what it was like to have a team again before it was ripped away. they never allowed themselves to grow into a family. they might never have the chance now, but steve knows he will protect those children with his life. even if it has to be from the outside.) _

He won’t let another family down.

 

-

 

It is nothing more than a strike of lightning that alerts them to Thor’s presence, but considering the sky is bright blue and there are no clouds to be seen, it is a signal that they all see.

They all greet him one by one, Tony promising him his room is still his, before retreating back inside. Bruce comes last, accepting the bear hug that is eagerly given.

Thor is smiling, wider than he has seen in months. “I found them, Bruce,” he says, letting Bruce lead him inside.

“That’s great, Thor,” Bruce replies, smiling in turn. He can’t help but be happy for his friend. “And they’re okay?”

His eyes darken a little. “The ones left - yes.”

Bruce is silent for a moment, then: “I’m sorry.”

Thor shakes his head. “No, it is the best I could have expected.”

“Are you going to go… be with them?”

“No, they are safe where they are. I trust who is leading in my stead.” He sighs. “I know the fight will come from here, and the fight is where I am needed.”

“No one would fault you for leaving to protect your people, Thor.”   


“This I know, Bruce, but I must fight for the ones we have lost.” He looks out, over the hill, where the graves lay silently under the sun.

“Y’know, it’s easy to see how good of a king you must be,” he says finally. It feels like the honesty is being wrenched from him, but Thor’s grateful smile is worth it. “I couldn’t… before. You were so unlike the rest of us. But I can now.”

Thor slaps him on the back. “And you, Banner, are not a hero because you run away from the fight. You are a hero for running towards it, despite your fear of losing yourself. I apologize if I made you feel used before; it was not my intention, but I did so regardless.”

“It’s in the past; we have to move forward.”

Thor nods. “And how is our Captain? And Stark?”

Bruce shrugs. “Healing, I think.” This honesty is not the kind that hurts. He finds he wants to repeat it, because the words fill him with hope. “I think they’re healing.”

“I would fear facing Lady Natasha when she sets her mind to a task.”

“Tell me about it, buddy,” Bruce grins, watching Thor stand. “What, you hungry already?”

“We must feast,” Thor yells, barging through the front door. A moment later, he pokes his head back out, sheepish. “If we are being honest, Banner - Asgardians do not feast as much as I would have you believe.”

Bruce can’t help it; he laughs aloud. “Yeah, we kind of figured that out years ago - but Tony’s always looking for an excuse for a party and Steve just loved team building, so-”

Thor lays a hand over his heart. “I am wounded, Banner, truly.”

Bruce just shakes his head, punching his friend in the arm as he makes his way inside. “I’m gonna make Indian food, want some?”

Thor makes a face. “Never you mind; I expect Stark has my Pop-Tarts around her somewhere…”

_ (and with that, there are no more apologies left in the space between them, and the world becomes a little lighter.) _

 

-

 

Tony finds Natasha in the gym one afternoon, sharpening knives. It says a lot about the past few months that he just walks over, sitting on the bench next to her.

When it is clear that he doesn’t want to speak, Natasha begins the conversation for him. “Tony…” She trails off, a warning in her tone.

_ (say what you came here to say.) _

“Can we train?” He asks instead, and though she rolls her eyes at the evasion tactic, she stands, gesturing for him to follow.

In seconds, she vaults over his shoulders, pinning him to the ground. “What’s really going on?” She sounds hardly out of breath; it isn’t fair.

He twists underneath her, somehow managing to switch their positions. “I’m fine,” he grunts.

She raises an eyebrow, moving in some sort of indecipherable way that ends with him in a chokehold. “That’s a lie,” she hisses, pulling him tight.

“Okay, okay!” He gasps, and she lets go of him. They both stand, but Natasha is clearly wary. Her body is almost as tense as his is. “I was… I was thinking about Parker, okay?”

Her expression softens. “Spiderman?”

Tony nods. “Yeah, he left… he left a can of web fluid in the trunk of the Jag. I found it this morning… He-” Tony laughs, but it sounds broken “- he used to hide them around, you know? Like you and your Widow bites.”

Natasha breaths in and out slowly, watching him as if he could explode at any minute. “From what I saw,” she begins carefully, “he was one of the good guys.”

He knows she said it on purpose, to trigger a reaction, and he can’t help but play into her hands. “He was an innocent,” he spits, suddenly angry, and god, he has been angry for a long time. “He was just a  _ kid _  and I encouraged him, gave him a suit, I didn’t send him  _ back _ -”

“He made a choice,” Natasha says, and she is right but that makes it worse.

“He shouldn’t have had to!”

“You can’t blame yourself for everything, Tony.”

“Watch me,” he shoots back, bitter and tired.

“I _  have _ .”

He stops short. Something in her voice makes him look her in the eye.

She takes a step toward him. “I’ve been watching you blame yourself for things you could’ve never controlled for weeks, Tony.  _ Weeks.  _ I sit with you, listen to you, and I know that there is no rebuilding our trust, not anymore, but I’ve had it. I’m going to stick by your side, I promise, but Peter is not your fault. Pepper is not your fault. And you definitely had a hand with the Accords, but it isn’t all on your shoulders.” He opens his mouth, but she just shakes her head. “No, it’s my turn. You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself, and focus on the now.”

He refuses to fold in on himself, jabbing an angry finger in her direction.“I don’t have it in me to fix this.”

Natasha looks up, throwing her hands into the air. “God, Tony, I don’t mean the world! We’ll figure that out in time. I mean, focus on  _ yourself. _  You need to forgive yourself.”

For a long time, all he can hear is the sound of their combined breathing. In such a large space, it shouldn’t be possible.

Finally, Natasha takes a step towards the door, as if to leave him in peace. But instead of finding comfort in being alone, Tony feels like she is being ripped from him.

“No,” he calls, strangled. He feels his eyes begin to burn. Hers are red too, though she would never admit it and he would never say anything. “Don’t… don’t leave. Please.”

“Okay.” Her voice is quiet, soft, and suddenly he misses the Natasha Romanoff who would unapologetically call him out on his bullshit. He loves that she has tried to made herself a safe place for him, but he sees that the weight of his guilt and blame is slowly crushing her.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts.

She looks like she wants to scream. “God, Tony, stop apolo-”

“No,” he interrupts. “This isn’t about all that. This is about you and me. All this time, I know you’ve been doing what you think is best. Your ego has never been in it, not like Steve and me. So I’m sorry, Natasha, that I made you feel like you had to do penance for hurting me-”

“It’s not like that.” She takes a step back again, turning to face the opposite wall, but he senses this one is more about creating distance than the door. “I still trust you. I think you’re a good man, and more than that… You’re my friend, Tony. You don’t have to forgive me for betraying you.” She laughs, and it sounds like it hurts. “Not today, not ever. But the truth is, even if you didn’t deserve it, I would still be in your corner.”

Tony stares at her back in shock. “I - You -”

She sighs. “You don’t have to say anything, Tony. We can finish our combat lesson later.”

She begins to move again, and Tony finds again that she can’t leave, that something is missing, and how can he show her their hours of talking and fighting and teaching and protecting have made all the difference. She has kept her word, kept Steve away, kept Pepper safe, and instead of the agonizing tug he used to feel whenever he saw her face he feels warm instead and oh.

_ oh. _

This must be forgiveness.

Tony blinks. “Wait!” She stops again. “Okay - um, Romanoff, this is gonna happen, so it’s better if you just roll with it, okay? It’s not my thing either.”

She looks at him like he’s a puzzle she will never be able to solve. He wants to laugh, and he wonders if he will be able to pass the tears in his eyes off as tears of laughter. “Fuck it,” he says finally, before striding forward and wrapping her tightly in his arms.

He waits patiently for her to catch up, but she remains stiff and confused. “This isn’t a one-sided activity, Nat, get with the program.” He pauses, but she remains rigid. “I forgive you,” he adds, so softly that she wouldn’t have heard if his mouth hadn’t been right next to his ear. Barely a moment passes before he feels Natasha Romanoff’s lethal arms surround him. He hears her breath hitch; she presses herself to his chest, and he holds her closer, so tightly his arms hurt, though he finds it difficult to care. He can’t even remember the last time someone held him besides Pepper. Maybe his mother?

They separate slowly, and to Tony’s surprise, it doesn’t feel awkward. He loops her arm through his, pulling her out of the gym. “I hope this doesn’t mean you’re going to stop making me coffee in the morning,” he teases, smiling down at her.

“We might be able to work something out,” she replies, “but you know I’ve been wanting some new Widow bites…”

“You drive a hard bargain, lady.”

_ (she laughs, and it is shocking, like breaking an antique vase that should never have been touched. he pulls her arm closer into his body and hopes that is not the last time he ever hears it.) _

 

-

 

Pepper wakes up to a world of white and bright lights. The first thing she feels is a warm hand in hers, but she can’t seem to turn and look at her companion. So she squeezes as hard as she can, and feels a small, but noticeable, response in the pressure on her fingers.

“Pep?”

It’s Rhodey, and Pepper vacillates between relieved and disappointed.

“Tony?” She asks, but it comes out like a gasp. Still, Rhodey understands, moving to feed her a couple of ice chips. She gulps them down.

“He’s fine. Better than I expected, honestly.”   


Pepper tries to crease her brow, but it doesn’t work. “Meaning?” She rasps instead.

Rhodey is silent for a moment, then: “It’s better if you see for yourself.”

He helps her up, putting a strong arm around her waist. She lets her head roll onto his shoulder, and he carries her over to the window.

And there is a sight that makes her think she might still be sleeping.

“It’s Cooper’s birthday,” Rhodey tries to explain. “He wanted a party.”

That explanation explains nothing.

Sure enough, there are two children skipping around in bathing suits. Someone had set up a slip and slide on one of the hills, ending in an inflatable pool. She can’t hear the children squealing through the window, but it is obvious that they are happy as a bare-chested Steve Rogers helps Clint catch them, one after another at the bottom.

Thor, with a similar swimsuit on, is helping Bruce set up what has to be a tie-dye t-shirt station. There are a couple of people Pepper doesn’t recognize, but they seem to be play-fighting, flying through the air so gracefully that they cannot be human.

“Asgardians, and a few of Phil Coulson’s inhumans,” Rhodey supplies.

“Phil?” She gasps, wide eyed.

Rhodey shakes his head. “He’s alive; let’s not get into it right now.” Pepper shakes her head in disbelief, but doesn’t say anything else on the subject. There will be time for that.

Then she sees Tony.

He is sitting a significant distance from Steve, which is no surprise, in a lawn chair with a tablet in his hands. The chair next to him is empty; she figures it had been for Rhodey before he came up to see her.

A few seconds later, she sees Natasha Romanoff sneak up behind him.

Pepper is immediately worried. She knows how that relationship ended. Even if Natasha means well, something as simple as a fun ambush could end in disaster.

When Natasha reaches out, Pepper holds her breath, and lets it out noisily when Tony reaches out behind himself to grasp her wrist before she can touch his shoulder.

And then he laughs.

It is not a full-bodied laugh; only Rhodes and she are privy to that rarity. But it is obviously genuine as Tony gestures her into the chair next to him, reaching over to let her read something on his tablet. Nat wraps a hand around his forearm, angling him so she can read better, and Tony lets her, a true smile on his face.

“What the hell did I miss?” She rasps.

Rhodey is silent for a moment, then: “Romanoff… Nat’s done good,” he acknowledges, and Pepper gapes at him. He’s never liked the woman; she knows it, and she says as much. “She’s helped him, though, Pep,” he explains in response, with respect in his voice he cannot hide. “I mean, genuinely, thoughtfully, helped him. I mean, he’s not going to go forgiving Steve anytime soon, but he smiles. Called me two weeks ago to talk about his insecurities.”

Pepper cannot find any words.

“You know we mean a lot to him, but there’s something different about her,” he says. “She’s on the team. Her opinion matters in a way that he’s been missing for a long time.”

Pepper speaks slowly. “Well, I’ll need to talk to her. She can’t hurt him again, or else she’ll have me to deal with.”

Rhodey grins. “That coma didn’t change you at all.”

Pepper smiles, her first one since awakening. “Well, call him up then! I want to see my fiance.”

Rhodey sends a text, and they watch as Tony checks it before his eyes shoot up to the window. Pepper gives a small wave, and then he is standing, taking a moment to gesture to Romanoff before sprinting towards the building. Natasha seems reluctant, but she follows.

Minutes later, Pepper hears the echoes of an argument.

“... Why am I coming with you again?”

“I want you there.”

“I’m relatively sure I’m not the person Ms. Potts wants to see right now. I might even be competing for a spot on the bottom of the list - oh, hey Colonel.”

Rhodes looks up at Natasha as she comes through the door. Tony is frozen in the doorway, staring at Pepper, so Natasha slips around him.

“Hey Natasha, topple any governments lately?”

Natasha smirks. “You know watching this one-” she sticks a thumb at Tony “- is a full time job.” She angles her head towards the door. “Let’s give them a moment; I have a few questions for you anyway.”

Rhodey nods, smiling once again at Pepper before leaving the room.

Natasha finally looks over at Pepper. “I’m glad you’re awake; we needed a win.” Then, she shoves Tony toward the bed. “That doesn’t mean you can go into a coma now, Stark.”

Tony grins, eyes breaking away from Pepper to look at Natasha. Oh, Pepper realizes. He’s nervous. “Now that you mention it, what better way to avoid Rogers?”

Natasha rolls her eyes, but Pepper can see the smile that curls at the edges of her mouth. Then she slips out the door.

Tony scratches his temple, walking hesitantly over to her bed. “So, hun, I might’ve flown into space again…”

Pepper cannot even be angry; not when they are both healthy and alive. “Yes, I remember.”

“Sorry about that?”

“Well did you save the day?”

All the sudden, he crumbles, falling into Rhodey’s chair. “God, Pep, we lost. The whole universe lost.” His hands are shaking. “I’ve seen Nat cry. Rogers is living within a hundred feet of me, and I haven’t killed him. The kid is dead. Pep, we  _ lost. _ ”

_ (pepper has to forget about strange happenings, with her fiance sobbing into her sheets. she pulls him onto the bed with her, and for a long time, they just hold each other. tony listens to the soothing low tones of his friends in the hallway, watching pepper fall asleep, her eyelids fluttering as if she wants to keep looking at him but does not have the strength.) _

Tony cannot see whether Natasha or Rhodey remain outside the room, but he draws comfort from the mere idea, succumbing to sleep and Pepper’s arms.

_ (they are not there, but it does not matter, because he knows something so precious that he cannot even bear the thought of it. he is dreamless, but somehow, despite their absence, he feels them still.) _

 

-

  
“How’s the world, do you think? Really?”

Natasha looks over at Tony. They are sitting in his lab; Natasha watching him build a robot, probably bored out of her mind. He is going slow just to taunt her, and she knows it, but they are both too competitive to call each other out. “Quiet, still,” she replies.  _ Except for the mothers screaming for their children. Except for the self inflicted gunshots. _  “There’s been some stirring, but mostly mourning.”

“Everywhere?” He asks.

“Everybody lost somebody.”

He shuts up at that, but only for a minute: “And I’m sure nobody notices the Black Widow,” he observes, watching her out of the corner of his eye, “toppling dangerous uprisings, making sure certain information makes it into the right hands.”

She just shakes her head, looking at him head on. “Just like no one notices Stark Industries sending boxes and boxes relief efforts- we’ve never pretended to be able to sit back and do nothing, Tony.”

“We’ve pretended to be villains though.”

She has no idea what to say to that. There is silence, and then:

“It’s time.” Natasha raises an eyebrow. He tries again. “Time for us to fix this bullshit.”  _ Okay, third time’s the charm: _

“I want to be a hero again, Nat.”

_ (she doesn’t reply with ‘oh, but you already are’ or some other platitude. in all honesty, she doubts he’s ready to hear it. what is a hero anyway, truly? she doesn’t think the public will ever view the avengers the same way they did after new york, with awe and respect and near-worship. a hero is something beyond human, beyond hard choices and devastating mistakes. tony stark is, perhaps, not a hero, but natasha knows she called it true in her report of him all those years ago: he is a good man. instead, she says-) _

“In that pile of garbage?” She gestures to the half-burned suit piled in the corner of the workshop. Tony hasn’t touched it in months.

He barks out a laugh, glad for the levity. “You don’t pull any punches, do you, Widow?”

Her smile is mock-secretive. “Sometimes.”

“I have a feeling we’re gonna need your spidery ruthlessness,” he grins. “So where’s the button? Avengers assemble, huh?”

And now Tony knows he has never truly seen Natasha smile, because the genuine article changes her whole countenance. “FRIDAY, tell everyone to be in the conference room in five.” She pauses. “And tell Steve to bring his notes.” Tony grimaces at the thought, but tries to cover it up quickly. He doesn’t think he succeeds.

“FRIDAY’s the button? That’s a little underwhelming, don’t you think?”

“Tony…”  She warns, but it has a playful note to it that he hadn’t realized he’d missed until now.

He wraps an arm around her shoulder. He hopes it seems playful, though really a large part of him just wants her anchored to him. “You know, we should have a secret handshake.”

“Shut up, Stark.” But he can see her small, exasperated smile, the one that he thinks is reserved for him. He glows.

“No, I’m dead serious. I’ll even teach Cap, I swear.” He guides her out of the room, stopping for a snack, because knowing Steve he’ll have them in the conference room for the next forty-eight hours going over fifty different plans. The time for rest, for recovery, is over.

_ (on the surface, they both know that nothing is okay. there will be many battles before any of them have another moment to rest, and the idea that they all will make it to the end is laughable. But none of them will fight without friends, without family.) _

And though it might have taken them years to truly understand it, Natasha eyes her friends with pride when they have all taken a seat around the table. Steve gives Tony a hesitant nod and receives a stiff one in return.

She reaches over and squeezes his hand. “For our friends,” she reminds him. “For Wanda and Laura and Sam and Bucky and Vision. For  _ Peter _ .”

Tony squeezes her hand in return. “For Peter,” he whispers.

They get to work.


End file.
